Mourn, Spring, thon darling of the year! My soul is an enchanted boat Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled ... Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the north-west died away No wrath of man, or rage of seas Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame... Now Nature hangs her mantle green ... Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are! O blest of heaven, whom not the languid songs O blithe new-comer! I have heard O for the coming of that glorious time... O Ignorant poor man! what dost thou bear O list the mystic lore sublime O Lord divine! that stoop'd to share O love of loves! to thy white hand is given O lull me, lull me, charming air O Moon! old boughs lisp forth a holier din O that we now had here O that we now had here ... ... O thou bright thing, fresh from the hand of God O what a glory doth this world put on ... O what an hour was that! when from the main O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms O wild West Wind, tnou breath of Autumn's being Oh, to be in England Oh, wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the north Once upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder'd, weak and weary ... Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ... Orpheus, with his lute, made trees O'er a low couch the setting sun had thrown its latest ray Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies Poet of Paradise, whose glory illumed Revolution sweeps o'er earth She died in beauty, like a rose blown from its parent stem She was a phantom of delight Shed no tear! O shed no tear! Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough Sleep soft, beloved! we sometimes say... Slowly, slowly up the wall Some humble heart is sore and sick with grief Soon will the moon and all her stars be here ... Spake full well, in language quaint and olden Speak low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet ... ... ... Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content ... ... ... ... The blessings which the weak and poor can scatter The breeze had sunk to rest, the noonday sun was high. ... 84 185 202 The mid day hour of twelve the clock counts o'er ... The sky is changed-and such a change! Oh, night 396 ... 173 310 265 34 182 66 ... 85 124 ... 63 171 ... 5 ... Thou blossom bright with autumn dew The world is too much with us 33 8 71 68 190 844 57 60 189 The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing ... Then came fair May, the fairest maid on ground There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream These are thy glorious works, Parent of good ... 337 236 190 275 326 396 398 68 189 279 364 386 290 293 265 374 245 232 224 182 309 400 348 "Tis liberty alone that gives the flower" ... 86 240 30 177 189 178 ... What saith the river to the rushes grey When first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave ... Where will they stop, those breathing Powers Who feels that God and Heaven's great deeps are nearer Who is he that cometh, like an honour'd guest Who says we are craven and cold? Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant Would I describe a preacher such as Paul Would that I were a river... ... Wish'd Morning's come; and now, upon the plains ... With other ministrations thou, O Nature With little here to do or see... With some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appear'd ... ... PAGE 122 74 174 151 314 79 310 257 Ye wintry flowers, whose pensive dyes ... ... 210 334 181 75 3 387 28 239 257 255 167 7 999 338 246 195 216 7 |